


Ignition

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a frustrating race in Abu Dhabi, both Mark and Fernando are looking to let off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to zeraparker for looking this over for me.

Mark sighed at the knock on his hotel room door. He really wasn’t in the mood for company and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for making nice. He thought about just ignoring it but there was another knock, more insistent than the first, and so he flicked off the TV and got to his feet. Before he even got the door fully open, Fernando was pushing his way inside and storming past him. Mark stared into the empty doorway.

“Good evening, Fernando,” he greeted dryly, swinging the door so that it audibly connected with the frame as it closed.

He turned around, feeling exhausted already. Fernando was sat on the edge of his bed, forearms resting on his thighs and hands clasped firmly together.

“That race was fucking ridiculous,” Fernando growled.

“You’re telling me, mate,” Mark responded. He reached for the mini bar and took out the first tiny bottle he came to, tossing it towards Fernando. “If you’re staying you could at least have the decency to get drunk and lift your face off the floor.”

“Fuck off,” Fernando told him, throwing the bottle back. It glanced off Mark’s shoulder and fell to the carpet. Mark looked at it and then moved forward, grabbing Fernando by the arm and pulling him to his feet. Fernando yanked his arm free. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not in the mood, mate,” Mark told him. Fernando dropped himself back to the bed and Mark rolled his eyes, stepping away. He picked the bottle up off the floor and opened it up, taking a swing.

“He starts from the pit lane and he finishes on the podium,” Fernando said, disgust and outrage clear in his voice. “This is not fair. I fought so hard and still there is ten points between us.”

Mark shook his head. “I spend half my life listening to how _special_ Seb is,” he dismissed. “Or how special you are. No one ever talks about how fucking special Mark Webber is.” Fernando didn’t say anything, staring at the carpet. “You know, a comment like that would have had you sucking my cock not that long ago.”

Fernando raised his eyes upwards, a sardonic expression on his face. “Maybe I am not in the mood either,” he said. There was something like a challenge there.

Mark nodded, taking a final swig from the bottle. “Fair enough.” He picked up his keycard, slipping his feet into his sandals.

“Where are you going?” Fernando demanded.

Mark shrugged. “Find Kimi’s party? I bet he’s better company than you are right now, mate. Make sure you shut the door on your way out.” He turned, heading for the door, when Fernando stood from the bed, striding towards him and grabbing hold of Mark’s wrist. Mark turned, giving him a weary look. “What?”

“Stay here,” Fernando implored.

“Give me a reason to stay,” Mark challenged.

Fernando’s grip on Mark’s wrist tightened and then his other hand fisted into the front of Mark’s shirt, dragging Mark with him as he backed himself up against the wall. He tilted his head back, meeting Mark’s eyes, letting go of Mark’s wrist and gripping hold of the back of his neck inside, pulling him down. Mark winced, Fernando’s fingertips digging harshly into muscle that was still tense from the race, from the crash, from the fucking media that was still going around in his head.

He surged forward with his whole body, closing the small gap between himself and Fernando, pressing him tightly against the wall. Fernando’s head connected with the hard surface but he barely seemed to notice. Fernando’s lips parted, his tongue coming tantalisingly into view between his teeth, but Mark didn’t kiss him. Instead he held Fernando’s eyes with his own as he bit down on Fernando’s bottom lip, tugging on it. Fernando made a noise, not quite pleasure but not quiet discomfort, his eyes growing darker. Mark bit down harder and Fernando whimpered, the tiniest hint of surrender passing over his gaze. Mark released him.

“I don’t want one more fucking ‘woe is me’ word out of you,” he hissed, watching as Fernando licked over his hurt lip. “We understanding each other, mate?”

Fernando stared at him for a moment, face unreadable, releasing his swollen lip from his own mouth. He looked serious, like he was considering it, or maybe like he was weighing up his options. He couldn’t reach Mark’s mouth, not now that Mark had straightened up, not while he was still pinned up against the wall and had no leverage to rise up with. Instead he pushed his hips forwards, grinding them against Mark’s. Mark felt his eyelids flutter slightly and then his pushed one of this thighs between Fernando’s leg, giving him something to really thrust himself against. Fernando obliged, his cock gratifyingly hard through the thin material of Mark’s shorts.

Mark watched him for a moment, the pleasure that flicked over Fernando’s face, the way his body began to loosen, the stress leaving it. A smile pulled at Mark’s lips, feeling like he finally had something under his control. He lifted one hand, gripping the muscle where Fernando’s neck met his shoulder, knowing he was hitting a pressure point. He pushed downwards, shifting his own weight back to offer Fernando the space to drop to his knees. Fernando looked up at him, face calm and collected, and shook his head before his fingers tightened in the hair as the nape of Mark’s neck, pulling his head backwards.

Fernando found the leverage he had been lacking and pushed Mark back until he connected with the wall behind him, Fernando’s hot body pressed against him, fingers still tight in his hair. Fernando might be small but he had some fucking power behind him. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes, lining his mouth up with Mark’s ear.

“I am not doing that,” he said. “I tell you this already.”

He released Mark’s hair with a final tug and settled back down to his usual height. Mark took a breath, tilting his head one way and then the other in an attempt to work the kinks out of his neck. He wasn’t quite prepared for Fernando’s hand sliding down the front of his shorts, bypassing his underwear, grasping his cock. He hissed, hips pushing shamelessly forwards before he’d even had a chance to process what was happening. Fernando’s hand ran slowly up and down his length, thumb playing over the tip with expert precision, just enough attention to drive him absolutely out of his mind without actually moving things along.

“I will shut up,” Fernando said, voice low and accent heavier, “If you stop thinking you are better than me.”

“Never said I was better than you,” Mark replied, fighting to keep his voice level.

“I say _think_ ,” Fernando corrected, emphasising the word with a squeeze of Mark’s cock. Mark stared over his shoulder at the blank wall behind him, refusing to react. “You are not the only one who lose something today.”

Mark lifted his eyes up to the ceiling in frustration. “You didn’t fucking lose,” he gritted out. He tugged Fernando’s hand from his pants, forcing him back against the opposite wall again, gripping both his wrists and forcing them up above his head. Fernando didn’t fight him. “One more word and I swear to God I’ll throw you out that door panting and needy and fucking hard up.”

Something glittered in Fernando’s eyes and he looked almost pleased. He didn’t speak. Mark stared at him for a moment, his breath ragged, his body too hot, but not in the way it should be with Fernando this close to him. He just felt wound up, more angry than when he’d stood at that barrier and watched the race continue without him. He felt helpless, completely at a loss, and he didn’t even know what he wanted to do with Fernando anymore.

He let go of Fernando’s wrists, watching them drop limply back down by his sides, grabbed the belt loops of Fernando’s shorts instead, tugging his hips closer, but Fernando still didn’t react, didn’t give him anything back. Mark gripped the hem of Fernando’s shirt instead, tugging it up over his head and dropping it to the floor, fingertips exploring the newly exposed skin of Fernando’s chest and stomach, hairless in a way that made him look airbrushed. Fernando stood still, lazily watching the path of Mark’s hands. Mark felt something snap, pushing harshly against Fernando’s shoulders so that he bumped back against the wall.

“ _Do_ something,” he demanded, utterly lost at how being handed total control could make him feel so powerless.

Fernando met Mark’s eyes, holding his gaze as he toed off his trainers, kicking them aside. He did the same with his socks and then his hands went to his waistband, unfastening his shorts, pushing them down along with his underwear to pool at his bare feet. Mark looked down at the shed clothes and then watched as Fernando took hold of his own cock, stroking it slowly in the same way he’d stroked Mark’s. Mark felt something flip over in his stomach, heat rising up on the back of his neck, and he dropped to his knees before he’d realised what he was doing, letting Fernando guide his cock into Mark’s mouth.

He raised his eyes upwards, meeting Fernando’s gaze as he sucked him in deep, holding himself there and swallowing around him. Fernando’s mouth opened with a shuddery breath that Mark could feel through his entire body. He moved back, sucking on the tip, using his tongue to circle around the head, probe the tip, watching as Fernando shuddered against him, his dark gaze not leaving Mark’s for a moment. His hand came to rest in Mark’s hair but he didn’t grip him, didn’t try to guide him, he just leaned bonelessly back against the wall, his guard coming down, and Mark could feel his heart rate rising against his tongue.

Mark felt that calmness again as control came back to him, Fernando’s face so open and honest, the noises he made small but genuine. His fingers combed through Mark’s hair, tickling at his scalp, and Mark groaned, the feel of it making Fernando shiver, his eyes threatening to close. Mark pulled his mouth away, reaching up and grabbing Fernando’s hips, pulling him down to straddle his lap. He ran his hands over Fernando’s bare arse, squeezing harshly before pulling him closer so there was no space between them. Fernando’s arms went around his neck, grinding down and moaning at the feel of Mark’s shorts against the sensitive underside of his naked cock. Mark smiled, one hand going to the back of Fernando’s head and forcing him into a kiss.

It was messy, their teeth clashing together before they tilted their heads, found an angle and a rhythm that worked. Tongues surged together, greedy and impatient, and everything felt heady and breathless, all groping hands and writhing bodies and hot, wet mouths. Mark moved mindlessly, managing to switch off his brain for the first time that evening and let his body act solely on instinct.

Fernando pulled their mouths apart, head angled down as he fumbled uselessly with the waistband of Mark’s shorts. “Pants,” he muttered, the word laced with frustration, and Mark brushed his hands away before pushing Fernando back off his knee, Fernando squirming at the cold hardness of the wall against his bare back. Mark got his own pants open, pushing them down to his knees and then giving up, grabbing for Fernando again. They overbalanced, Mark ending up sprawled on his back, Fernando straddling him.

The moved together, Mark’s hands going to Fernando’s hips, forcing him down, and he moaned at the feel of their cocks sliding together, damp with precome. He pushed his own hips up, keeping their bodies so tight together that he didn’t think even air could get between them. Fernando’s hands were resting on Mark’s chest, his hair hanging into his eyes, cheeks flushed and shining with sweat. He caught Mark’s eye again and then he was leaning forward, bringing their bodies closer still, smashing his mouth against Mark’s in a way that felt almost as violent as shattered carbon fibre.

Mark could feel himself gripping hold of Fernando tighter, one hand grabbing a buttock, the other a shoulder, fingers digging in so hard he was sure he’d leave marks. He liked that idea. He felt he wanted something to show for this day, even if it was written over someone else’s flesh.

As their bodies moved more urgently together their mouths fell apart, almost by accident. Fernando rested his forehead against Mark’s, their breaths hot and frantic between them, and Mark could barely focus but he kept his eyes trained on Fernando’s anyway, watching him fall apart as his own orgasm ripped through him. His back arched, crying out as everything coiled so tightly inside him finally snapped, releasing itself in waves of pleasure that left him warm and sated and exhausted.

He didn’t object when Fernando got off him, closing his eyes and crossing his arms above his head, a smile settling over his face. He could have happily fallen asleep right there if Fernando hadn’t been fussing beside him. He cracked one eye open, watching Fernando scrutinising his knees.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why on the carpet?” Fernando asked irritably. “Why no the bed?”

Mark laughed, closing his eyes again. “Because you’re an impatient fucker.”

“I think it was you,” Fernando countered.

“Whatever, mate,” Mark replied, waving a hand vaguely in Fernando’s direction. “You remember what I said about talking? If I wanted to be bitched at I would’ve stayed with the team a little longer to hear the laundry list of mistakes I made today.”

“You can sleep here is you wish, I am using the bed,” Fernando stated, getting to his feet and stepping over Mark. “And if my knees are sore then your arse will be worse.”

Mark frowned, opening his eyes and rolling onto his side, stroking a hand down his backside. Definitely a little tender. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching out for Fernando’s ankle but he was just out of reach. Fernando turned to look at him.

“If you are nice to me, maybe I will put some lotion on for you,” Fernando told him.

“No fucking chance,” Mark responded.

Fernando shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself as he turned away again. Mark laid out on his back, grabbing Fernando’s discarded T-shirt and using it to wipe the come off his stomach. Cocky fucking bastard.


End file.
